TO  MEMOmANi 

HENRY  U.  BRANDENSTEIN 


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THE 


FIRST    SATIEE 


JUVENAL, 


TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH    VERSE, 


O  »-5^0500  *  o"" 


•M 


EDWARD  P.  USHER,  A.  M. 


CAMBRIDGE 

MARCH,    1876. 


fp 


0 


•        •    • 

•  •  •    • 


e  e     e     •  • 


SATIRE 


Shall  I  forever  play  the  list'ner's  part; 
And  never  have  my  say,  though  harassed  oft 
By  Cordus  mumbling  out  his  dull  Theseid? 
Without  e'er  hearing  me  shall  one  recite 
His  elegies,  another  read  his  plays? 
Must  I  hear  "  Telephus  "  the  live-long  day, 
That  tragic  story,  where  you  scarcely  find 
A  fate  to  draw  compassion  more  than  mine. 
If  I  am  doomed  to  hear  without  revenge? 
Must  sit  in  patience,  while  some  crack-brained  fool 
Reels  off,  in  detail,  all  Orestes'  woes  — 
A  vapid,  endless,  many-volumed  tale? 
I  know,  e'en  as  I  do  my  house  and  home. 
The  cave  of  Vulcan  near  Aeolian  cliffs. 
The  grove  of  Mars  and  all  that  sort  of  thing; 
For  'neath  the  shady  plane-trees,  where  the  bards 
Collect  in  crowds  to  shout  their  stupid  lines 
And  bawl  so  loud  that  e'en  the  statues  shake. 
The  porticoes  of  Fronto  echo  back 
Descriptions  of  the  roaring,  raging  winds; 


The  judgments  passed  by  Aeacus  in  hell; 
Whence  crafty  Jason  stole  the  Golden  Fleece; 
And  all  about  the  mountain  ash-trees  hurled 
By  Monychus  the  Centaur  'gainst  his  foes. 
Such  are  to-day  the  universal  themes, 
A  few  dry  husks,  the  corn  within  all  gone. 

Time  was  I  wrote  because,  forsooth,  I  must; 
The  task  undone  had  brought  the  teacher's  rod. 
But  now  I  fear  no  ferule,  for  I  've  writ 
On  all  the  threadbare  topics  of  the  schools, 
How  Sylla  should  the  sovereign  power  resign 
And  sleep  till  noon  at  ease  in  private  life. 
Since  then  the  boy  could  write  with  all  the  rest. 
Why  should  not  now  the  man  take  up  the  pen? 
'Tis  foolish,  since  each  quarter  of  the  town 
Is  crowded  with  its  host  of  scribbling  bards. 
To  spare  the  paper  they  will  surely  spoil. 
Why  then  I  choose  to  follow  in  the  steps 
Of  great  Lucilius  in  the  realms  of  verse. 
Nor  write  to  please  but  to  provoke  and  sting, 
If  you  have  time  and  wish  to  hear,  I  '11  tell. 

When  eunuchs  marry  and  the  hunting  spear 
Is  held  by  women,  who  with  breasts  exposed 
Within  the  circus  fight  the  Tuscan  boar; 
When  he  exceeds  the  nobles  in  his  wealth. 


Whose  barber-fingers  clipped  my  youthful  beard; 

When  he,  a  born  and  bred  Egyptian  slave, 

A  vagabond,  the  very  scum  of  Nile, 

So  boldly  flaunts  his  Tyrian  purple  robe 

And  waves  his  hand  to  show  his  summer  rings 

So  dainty  and  so  fine,  and  swears  he  keeps 

His  score  of  heavier  gems  for  winter's  wear  — 

Satiric  verse  becomes  an  easy  thing. 

For  who  can  be  indifterent,  when  he  sees 

The  daily  life  of  this  licentious  town? 

When  lawyer  Matho's  sedan  chair  goes  by 

Completely  filled  with  his  unwieldy  paunch; 

When  everywhere  you  hear  his  praises  ring 

Who  as  a  base  informer  gained  his  wealth. 

His  friends  and  patron  plundered  and  betrayed. 

Secure  in  royal  favor,  now  he  yearns 

For  what  our  pillaged  nobles  yet  have  left; 

Him  all  the  tribe  of  small  informers  fear 

And  crouch  before  and  soothe  with  gifts,  while  one 

Trembling  presents  his  mistress  as  his  bribe. 

When  rightful  heirs  are  robbed  of  their  estate 

By  those  whose  legacies  were  earned  through  lust, 

Who  find  that  wealth  and  high  preferment  lie 

For  those  whose  hands  are  stained  with  crime  and 

wrong; 
When  grandames  dying  all  their  wealth  bestow 
According  to  the  part  that  each  one  bore 


In  gratifying  their  insatiate  lust, 
Whose  aged  blood  by  ill-timed  passion  fired 
Becomes  the  prey  of  each  ambitious  knave; 
All  steeped  in  vile  excesses  they  bequeath 
To  those  of  kin  the  legacy  of  shame, 
While  fawning  lovers  take  the  vast  estate: 
And  these,  so  blinded  by  the  greed  of  gold. 
Sell  their  life-blood  and  rich  at  last,  bewail 
The  frame  exhausted,  broken  with  excess, 
The  features  thin  and  deathly  pale,  as  his 
Who  on  a  snake  has  trod  with  naked  feet. 
Or  who  prepares  to  seek  the  Lyon's  prize 
When  failure  is  disgrace  and  risk  of  life. 

My  angry  blood  with  indignation  boils 
To  see  the  guardian,  who  his  trust  betrayed. 
Attended  by  a  servile  throng,  who  fill 
The  whole  broad  street  around  him  as  he  walks; 
This  too  though  'tis  the  common  talk  of  town 
That  he  has  made  an  orphan  ward  his  prey. 
Robbed  her  of  all,  obliging  her  to  sell 
For  livelihood  her  virtue  and  good  fame: 
Or  when  again  I  see  the  courts  condemn 
The  plunderer  of  provinces,  who  still 
An  exile  lives  in  luxury,  while  they 
Who  urged  the  suit  now  fail  to  get  their  costs. 
He  laughs  to  scorn  their  impotent  revenge. 


Their  judgments  vain,  for  what  disgrace  to-day 
To  be  convicted  while  one's  wealth  is  spared! 

Worthy  are  these  of  strong  Horatian  verse. 
Shall  I  not  lash  them?  Shall  I  rather  write 
Of  Diomedes  or  Alcmene's  son, 
Of  Daedalus  and  Cretan  labyrinth, 
And  Icarus  who  flew  too  near  the  sun? 
Of  these  stale  themes  rather  than  daily  life? 
Nay,  nay,  the  times  demand  far  diflferent  verse 
When  vile  men  pander  to  their  wives  and  take 
In  their  own  name  the  legacies  thus  earned 
To  which  the  law  will  not  allow  her  claim; 
Skilled  such  become  in  knowing  when  to  gaze 
Up  at  the  frescoed  ceiling,  when  to  nod. 
And  o'er  their  glasses  feign  to  be  asleep: 
When  he  can  hope  to  reach  a  Colonel's  place 
Who  squandered  money  in  a  wild  career. 
Nor  kept  his  wealth  ancestral  while  he  drove 
The  finest  team  seen  on  Flaminian  way. 
With  no  mean  company  indeed  he  rode; 
He  held  the  reins  when  Nero  and  his  boy 
Disgraced  our  streets  by  lust  past  nature's  bounds, 
While  Romans  blushed  and  mourned  the  glories  past. 

How  can  I  keep  my  waxen  tablets  smooth? 
How  can  forbear  to  take  my  hurried  notes. 


8 


Though  jostled  at  each  elbow  by  the  crowd, 
When  here  and  there  on  every  street  is  seen, 
Borne  by  six  lusty  slaves  in  sedan  chair 
A  la  Maecenas  carelessly  outstretched. 
The  forger  now  so  famous,  rich  and  proud; 
Become  thus  by  a  few  brief  parchment  deeds. 
And  wax  well  moistened  e'er  the  seal  was  pressed? 
Or  when  she  sweeps  so  gaily,  proudly  by 
Who  mingled  with  the  mild  Calenian  wine 
The  subtle  poison  e'er  her  husband  drank? 
She,  skilled  in  myst'ries  of  the  dreadful  art. 
By  her  well  known  example  would  instruct 
Her  less  accomplished  neighbors  how  to  shift 
The  burden  from  their  shoulders  and  endure 
The  scandal  of  a  husband's  spotted  corpse. 
While  Honesty  is  praised,  the  honest  man 
Stands  shivering  in  the  cold  outside  and  starves, 
ould'st  thou  then  be  of  consequence,  thou  must 
ommit  some  crime  that  should  entitle  thee 
o  exile  or  to  prison,  then  compound 
J3y  using  part  of  thy  ill-gotten  gains ! 
To  crimes  are  due  these  gardens,  country-seats. 
These  sumptuous  dinners,  antique  silver  ware, 
These  drinking  cups  embossed  with  grapes  and  goats. 
Oh!  who  can  sleep,  these  scandals  in  his  ears. 
Daughters-in-law  corrupted,  wives  as  vile, 
i    The  thoughts  of  children  turned  to  lust  and  sin. 


Though  nature  had  refused  the  gift  divine, 
Yet  indignation  forces  one  to  write 
Such  verse  as  I  or  Cluvienus  may.  ^ 

E'er  since  Deucalion,  tossed  on  angry  waves, 
Sought  on  the  mountains  crest  the  voice  of  fate. 
Asking  of  Themis  to  disclose  the  means 
That  should  to  earth  restore  the  race  of  men. 
Renewing  what  the  deluge  had  destroyed  — 
He  then,  obedient  to  divine  commands. 
Found  rocks  behind  him  hurled  changed  into  men, 
While  Pyrrha  brought  the  blushing,  virgin  brides  — 
From  that  time  forth,  whatever  men  have  done. 
What  feelings  have  inspired,  what  motives  urged. 
Their  vows,  their  fits  of  anger  and  of  fear. 
The  pleasures  and  the  giddy  whirl  of  life; 
All  this  the  motley  burden  of  my  verse. 
And  when  has  Vice  a  richer  harvest  known? 
When  did  the  gulf  of  av'rice  wider  yawn? 
When  was  the  die  with  wilder  gesture  tossed? 
For  now  small  stakes  no  more  content,  but  all 
The  gathered  wealth  of  years  goes  on  one  throw. 
What  feverish,  fierce  encounters  with  the  dice! 
How  vexed  the  anxious  steward,  standing  near 
With  bags  of  coin,  the  weapons  of  the  fight! 
Is  it  not  madness,  absolute,  complete. 


lO 


That  leads  a  man  to  risk  his  whole  estate 
E'en  to  the  vesture  of  the  shiv'ring  slave? 

In  earlier  days,  v^hen  simpler  tastes  prevailed, 
Who  called  so  many  country  seats  his  own, 
Or  vainly  loaded  thus  the  board,  and  saw 
Seven  sumptuous  courses  for  himself  alone? 
Ah  I  then  the  clients  found  a  generous  host, 
A  welcome  and  good  cheer  for  all  who  came; 
While  now  the  fragment  basket  hangs  outside. 
The  eager  plunder  of  the  hungry  crew, 
Too  poor  to  scorn,  however  small  the  dole. 
But,  first,  the  wary  steward  eyes  each  one 
Lest  any  undeserving  get  a  share; 
If  known,  you  may  partake;  in  turn  they  call 
Such  as,  now  poor,  still  boast  their  noble  blood, 
The  shabby  remnants  of  a  genteel  past. 
Who  hang  in  noble  rags  and  royal  dirt 
About  the  threshold  with  the  common  herd. 
"Call  first  the  Praetor;  then  next  after  him 
The  Tribune : "  but  a  noisy  freedman  cries 
"  The  rule  here  followed  is  first  come,  first  served. 
"  I  may  demand  the  place  before  you  all; 
"  Why  shall  I  fear  to  claim  what  is  my  right, 
"  Though  born  upon  Euphrates'  bank,  a  fact 
"  My  pierced  ears  would  prove  did  I  deny. 
"  My  crowded  shops  are  quite  enough  to  show 


II 


^^  My  right  and  title  to  a  Knight's  estate; 

"  What  more  have  I  to  wish?  Corvinus  guards, 

"  Although  of  noble  kin,  a  stranger's  flocks, 

"As  poor  in  money  as  he's  rich  in  blood. 

"  To  me  must  Pallas  and  Licinus  yield 

"In  land  and  goods;  then  let  the  Tribune  wait." 

Let  wealth  become  supreme,  nor  let  him  yield, 
Who  to  this  city  lately  came  a  slave, 
Before  the  empty  honor  of  high  birth. 
We  worship  and  in  holy  rev'rence  keep 
The  majesty  of  wealth,  although  we  build 
No  temples  unto  thee,  accursed  gold, 
Nor  raise  thee  altars  as  to  other  gods  — 
These  are  but  hypocrite's  retreats  and  shams  — 
Thou  rulest  all;  they  but  a  worship  feign 
P^or  Peace  and  Faith,  for  Valor  and  High  Worth, 
And  all  that  cloistered  Culture  can  bring  forth. 
When  men  of  rank,  e'en  Consuls,  closely  count 
How  much  each  year  the  dole  has  brought  them  in, 
How  fare  the  poor,  who  on  this  paltry  sum 
Depend  for  all  they  have  of  food  and  clothes! 
Dense  the  array  before  the  rich  man's  door 
When  husbands  bring  their  bed-rid,  pregnant  wives 
In  chairs  and  litters,  every  size  and  kind. 
While  each  one  strives  to  prove  his  case  the  worst, 
And  noisy  impudence  asserts  its  sway. 


f 


12 


Some  sly  one  brings  his  sedan  chair  all  closed, 

And,  while  'tis  really  vacant,  asks  a  share 

As  if  there  were  a  living  form  within,  — 

"  My  Galla  here,"  says  he,  ^^  Do  n't  make  us  wait." 

"Wo  n't  Madam  Galla  please  put  forth  hor  head?" 

"  Do  n't  wake  her,  Mr.  Steward,  she  's  asleep." 

A  fine  routine  the  client's  day  employs! 
First  on  his  lord  he  makes  his  morning  call. 
Then  swells  the  crowd  around  him,  as  he  walks 
Down  through  the  public  squares  to  courts  of  law; 
And  there,  indifferent  to  the  busy  scene. 
Drags  through  long  hours,  all  in  his  master's  cause; 
The  rows  of  statues  with  disgust  he  views; 
They  do  no  honor  to  the  names  they  bear. 
When  money  and  not  worth  secures  a  place, 
When  not  infrequent  you  shall  see  the  forms 
Of  vile  Egyptians  or  of  filthy  Jews, 
Whose  infamy  was  covered  up  by  wealth, 
Whose  statues,  fit  at  best  to  be  defiled, 
He  must,  forsooth,  hold  sacred  and  keep  clean. 
At  length,  the  weary  day's  attendance  o'er, 
The  client,  ling'ring  long,  goes  to  his  home; 
And  he,  who  hoped  to  share  his  patron's  feast, 
Balked  of  expected  bounty,  now  must  boil 
His  paltry  cabbage  o'er  his  scanty  fire. 
Or  else  go  supperless  and  cold  to  bed. 


13 


Meanwhile  the  patron,  of  his  clients  rid, 
Lolls  on  his  couch  in  solitary  state. 
Revels  in  choicest  fish,  rare  game  and  fruits, 
Selects  from  many  tables,  broad  and  fair, 
Of  antique  patterns  and  of  costly  woods. 
Some  one  that  suits  perchance  his  present  whim, 
And  there  devours  a  whole  estate  at  once. 
No  guest  intrudes;  the  name  is  dying  out. 
The  kind  and  generous  host  of  earlier  days 
Has  given  way  to  men  who  worship  self. 
Whose  splendid  living  is  for  self  alone. 
The  shameless  glutton  a  whole  boar  desires. 
Though  that  might  well  suffice  to  feast  a  crowd; 
Yet  shall  his  folly  meet  its  just  reward 
When,  stuflfed  with  food,  he  lays  aside  his  robe. 
Flies  to  the  bath  and  vainly  seeks  relief 
From  woes  the  undigested  peacock  brings. 
Hence  unexpected  death  without  a  will. 
The  news  soon  flies  the  circle  of  his  friends. 
Makes  talk  at  every  table  in  the  town. 
Where  't  is  regarded  as  a  theme  for  jest. 
They  waste,  forsooth,  no  idle  tears,  but  vent 
Their  spleen  and  disappointed  hopes,  and  mock 
As  his  funereal  pageant  passes  by. 

They  who  succeed  us  shall  but  need  to  learn; 
They  can  devise  no  form  of  vice  or  crime 


H 


But  what  the  records  of  this  age  will  show. 

We've  reached  the  climax  now  of  every  vice; 

Spread,  Satire,  then  thy  wings  to  boldest  flights. 

But  where  the  mind  to  grasp  so  vast  a  theme. 

The  early  freedom,  now  almost  forgot. 

To  utter  what  indignant  Virtue  thinks? 

In  other  times  men  wrote  without  regard 

To  smiles  or  frowns,  court  favor  or  disgrace; 

But  now  glance  at  some  wretch  in  public  life, 

Direct  one  shaft  at  some  subservient  tool 

Who  by  his  intrigues  helps  the  royal  power. 

And  forthwith  you  shall  wear  the  shirt  of  pitch. 

Be  fastened  to  the  public  stake,  and  serve 

To  drive  the  darkness  of  the  night  away; 

Or  else,  with  breasts  transfixed,  you  squirm  and  draw 

In  shapes  fantastic  the  arena  sand. 

"  Shall  he,  who  for  three  uncles  mixed  the  draught 

"  Of  deadly  poison,  ride  in  triumph  by 

"And  cast  disdainful  glances  down  on  me?" 

Yes;  'tis  the  time  when  arrant  knaves  succeed. 

So  when  you  meet  him,  'spite  the  wrath  you  feel, 

Restrain  your  tongue,  for  some  informer  vile 

Who  follows  in  his  wake,  will  get  your  name 

And  bring  you  'neath  the  mighty  power  he  wields. 

Aeneas  and  the  fierce  Rutulian  prince. 

Or  Hylas  and  his  pitcher  sought  in  vain. 

You  may  describe  at  length :  none  take  offence. 


IS 


You  may  declare  Achilles  slain:  none  weep. 

But  when,  with  virtuous  indignation  filled, 

You  brandish,  as  it  were,  your  naked  sword. 

The  list'ner's  cheeks  grow  red  with  conscious  guilt, 

His  blood  runs  cold,  his  trembling  limbs  betray 

His  terror  and  his  shame  at  crime  revealed. 

Hence  angry  tears  and  fierce  revenge  ensue. 

These  consequences  of  your  deed  revolve 

E'er  with  your  lips  you  blow  the  trumpet's  blast; 

Too  late  the  soldier,  in  the  fight,  repents. 

Despite  the  danger,  I  shall  do  m}^  best 
To  hold  the  mirror  up  to  crime  and  wrong; 
And  as  I  may  not  lash  the  living  vile, 
I  '11  take  the  names  of  those  long  dead,  but  write 
So  that  to  all  the  meaning  shall  be  plain. 


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